February 22nd, 2023.
7:24 pm.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Long fingers, resting on a piano.
The silence in the room speaks music that we often not hear;
Melodies that make a silent heart speak.
I sit on my chair, awaiting a moment;
When inspiration will strike and make me write;
A song, a letter, a poem or two,
Anything that could express what is true.
My words fail to come onto the paper,
And the ones that do fail to convey emotions.I have paint on my fingers, dust on my feet;
Tiredness in my eyes, emotions in my heart.
Upon the floor are flowers wild,
And the windows in the room are open wide.A glass sits on the table, half filled with water,
And on the walls, pictures of the past;
Proud moments captured by a camera,
Showing a person I do not feel like anymore.Oh words, oh words: do come!
Aesthetics surround me, colors blind me,
But what use is this beauty that I fail to capture, how will I -a year from now- remember?Music, sweet and slow,
Or silence, thick and lingering.
Scents overwhelming, eyes stinging;
Nothing can move me from my chair,
Can move my still hand, resting on the piano;
Awaiting a moment that never seems to come.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Scarred Hands | Poetry collection | Versification
Poetry"When my scarred hand fails to capture your beauty with my pencil, do you think I'm a flawed artist?" a messy poetry collection- Best Ranking: 2nd on poetrycollection (15-4-2023) 4th on poembook (18-4-2023) 5th on wattpadpoetry (18-4-2023) 1st on ra...